The Best Years of Their Lives

Chapter 1

Crossing the farmyard, Louise grumbled something decidedly unladylike as the stiff prairie breeze blew her full skirts into a tangle around her ankles. After all these years, she still missed the freedom of movement that wearing trousers as a "boy" rider for the Pony Express had given her. Still, if dressing in women's clothes was the price she had to pay for the life she now had, Lou reckoned it a bargain.

As expected, she found her husband at the corral, leaning with arms akimbo on the fence rail, staring out over the vacant prairie beyond their homestead. Her Kid. Despite the strands of silver that lightened the hair at his temples these days, she would always think of him as the earnest, headstrong boy she'd fallen for almost a quarter century ago. There had been a lot of water under the bridge since then – times of joy and times of struggle – but some things never changed.

"Scowlin' at the grass won't make it green up any faster, Kid."

He turned at her words and a half-smile – a rare sight these days – flashed across his face. Then his features settled back into the serious, careworn expression that had become too familiar. "Hell, I'd settle for just seein' a patch of grass," he groused.

Though it was mid-May, the wide prairie remained mostly blanketed in snow. Lou felt a tightening in her belly, the niggling fear that spring would be late again this year – or perhaps not even come at all, like the "year without a summer" two years ago when the snow lingered into late June. The prairie grass stayed brown and damp through fall, and the wheat crop failed. Still, although grain prices were 500% higher that September, the always-prudent Kid had enough stored away to get their modest herd through the cold winter. But when the summer of 1884 was cold and rainy, too, they were forced to sell off most of the cattle for lack of anything to feed them. That year Kid planted rye on advice of the government, and Lou filled the kitchen garden with cabbages and potatoes, and they made do. But if the coming summer was another bad one …

Joining Kid at the fence rail, Lou indulged herself in tousling his hair, smiling as he ducked his head away like a little boy. "Be sure to get cleaned up before supper. John Meyer is coming to dinner."

Kid's frown deepened. "Again? Don't that boy's own ma know how to cook?"

"I think we both know it's not my stew he's enticed by," Lou smiled, then sighed. "For Emma's sake you might at least try to like him, Kid. He's likely to be your son-in-law someday soon."

Her husband snorted. "She's too young to be thinking about that."

"She's 17 – older than I was when we stopped over that night in Redfern."

Kid's jaw dropped and he stared at her. "Naw. That can't be right."

Lou returned his look with a wry smirk and was gratified to see two patches of bright pink rise on his cheekbones.

"I shoulda been horse-whipped," he muttered.

"You weren't much older yourself, and I don't recall you having to convince me. I had that powerful itchin' same as you. It's quite a joke the good Lord plays on young folks, makin' their bodies ready for pairing up before their minds and hearts are."

Kid digested her words and his face blanched. "You don't think Em and that boy-"

"No!" Lou hastened to reassure him. "Things are different now. You and me, we had to grow up fast. But our young 'uns have time to learn to be adults."

"You sure about that?" Kid asked. "I mean, about Em and that boy not" – he tugged at his collar uncomfortably – "scratchin' that itch."

Lou nodded. "Em and I had a little chat a while ago. She understands the proper way things between her and John should …" She paused, feeling a little blush on her own cheeks to match her husband's. "…move along."

"You didn't tell her about what we got up to back then?" Kid demanded, aghast.

"Of course not. I just suggested that getting ahead of yourself can lead to a world of trouble."

Kid turned away from her and gazed back at the vast expanse of dirty white stretching to the horizon. "God forbid she should end up like her ma," he murmured.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lou asked sharply.

Gripping the fence rail tightly with both gloved hands, Kid gave the muddy sod under his boots a kick. "I left Virginia because I didn't want to be a dirt farmer all my life. Now I cain't even make a go of that. This ain't the life I wanted for ya, Lou."

The petite woman felt a flush of frustration run through her. After years of living with this man, she'd learned to curb her temper some. But her spouse sure could be aggravatin' at times. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, Kid," she replied, "because this is exactly the life I wanted for myself."

"Diggin' and scratchin' to make a living, you mean? I find that a mite hard to believe."

"When we stood up together in front of Teaspoon all them years ago, I was dreaming of havin' a place of our own, growing a family, and facin' whatever life brought us side by side. Seems to me that's pretty near what we've got, Kid."

"You could have done a helluva lot better than what you got."

Lou rolled her eyes. There really was no reasoning with Kid when he was like this. Bull-headed, like she'd told Adrian Dawkins all those years ago. But she'd come to know him well enough since then to guess what was causing his sour mood today. "I don't suppose this has anything to do with a flyer I saw hangin' outside the general store in town today, does it?"

As if on cue, a sudden whoop from the direction of the house turned the couple's attention away from the conversation at hand. "Ma! Pa!" A young boy was running toward them, grinning broadly and waving a rolled up paper in his fist.

It was James, their middle child, born the same year his namesake died. Lou sometimes wondered if it had been a good idea to honor the memory of their old friend that way. Unlike his studious older sister Emma and shy little brother Caleb, their James had a kind of wildness and defiant independence that made her wonder if the spirit of Hickok, the express rider-turned-gunslinger, had passed into their son. More likely, she acknowledged, he was just the result of mixing her own feisty temperament with Kid's stubbornness. She often worried about her headstrong boy. Now, though, as he loped toward them on legs that were quickly growing too long for his britches, she smiled at his exuberance. Beside her, Kid actually chuckled. "We're going to have to get that boy a saddle."

If anything could pry her husband out of his funk, Lou knew, it would be young Jimmy. Kid was a kind and affectionate father to all his children, in keeping with his nature to wear his heart on his sleeve. Lou had often wished she could be as open with her feelings as he was, but her girlhood experiences had engendered a cautious reserve that was difficult to overcome even after all this time.

It was apparent as Jimmy reached them that he was all wound up about something, grinning from ear to ear and practically vibrating with excitement. "Pa, didja see?" he gasped, unrolling the tube of paper in his hand. "The Wild West is comin' to town this Saturday!"

The boy was holding up the same broadsheet she'd seen tacked up outside the general store. In garish colors, it depicted wild scenes of Indians attacking a stagecoach, men on horseback pursuing rampaging buffaloes and gunfighters with pistols drawn. In the center was a large portrait in profile of a man whose face was vaguely familiar, though the handlebar mustache and Van Dyke beard were new. At the top of the poster, large capital letters announced, "BUFFALO BILL'S WILD WEST," and at the bottom, "and Congress of Rough Riders of the World." Glancing from the sheet to her husband, Lou saw his expression darken, but Jimmy didn't seem to notice.

"Can we go, pa? It's only ten cents a ticket!"

"That's ten cents more than we have to waste on that kind of nonsense," Kid snapped. "You think dimes are falling from the sky these days?"

At his father's uncharacteristic harshness, James flinched as if he'd been struck. "N-no, pa. I just thought – all the other boys are goin', and-"

"I guess all them other boys got rich fathers, then. It's too bad you ain't."

Lou felt her blood heating up at his bitter outburst. She and Kid never crossed words in front of the children, though, so she directed her attention to her son. "Where did you get that flyer, James? You didn't take it from outside the store, did you?"

The boy looked at his ma, relieved to find a more sympathetic expression on her face. "No, ma. There was a fella handing 'em out right outside the schoolhouse. Everybody got one."

Kid snorted. "That's a fine trick, getting kids all stirred up so they come home and beg their folks to take them." He snatched the flyer out of Jimmy's hand and scowled at it.

"This might be the only time they come here, pa," Jimmy wheedled. "If I don't go on Saturday, I'll probably never get to see the show."

"In that case, you'll never have your head filled with fool ideas. The real world ain't like the circus, James, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be."

Lou saw the boy's eyes brighten with tears. "Yes, pa," he murmured, lowering his head.

But Kid's misdirected anger wasn't yet spent. "Ain't you got chores to do?" he demanded. When the boy nodded, he barked, "Well, you better get to it, then."

Lou waited until her son was out of earshot before turning to Kid, white-faced with anger. Anticipating her reaction, he tried to fend it off.

"Don't start in on me, Lou-"

She ignored him. "That was a fine display!" she fairly spat. "Whatever burr you've got under your saddle, Kid, that little boy didn't put it there. And you've got no call to make him as miserable as you seem to be."

"Not goin' to one show ain't gonna ruin the boy's life," Kid responded defensively. "You know money's scarce right now."

"This don't have anything to do with seein' a show or not. And it ain't about money. It's about letting our kids be kids. You always said you didn't want our young 'uns growing up hard like we had to."

"What do you think I'm doin', breaking my back on this godforsaken piece of Wyoming territory?" Kid insisted. "Tryin' to make a living for you and our kids and doin' a damned poor job of it." He had grown red in the face.

Lou struggled to keep her tone measured. "Going through tough times isn't what makes a body hard, Kid. It's havin' no idea that there's anything else in the world 'cept trouble and suffering. Times was hard back when we were riding for the Express, but we believed things would get better. We had hope."

"And look what that got us." He abruptly wadded up the poster and threw it forcefully over the fence onto the prairie, where the breeze quickly sent it skittering away over the frozen ground.

"Oh, we're back on that, are we?" Louise had heard just about enough of this bellyaching. "I never knew you to be jealous, Kid. Just be careful you don't let your envy of another man's life ruin the one that's yours." And with that she turned on her heel and headed back to the house. She heard him call after her, but didn't look back. Let him chew on her words awhile, she decided. Kid always had been one for ruminating over things like a cow with its cud. It was a trait that sometimes irked her, but this time she hoped a spell of heavy thinking might do him some good.